A History
by Mighty ANT
Summary: The pirate with a scarf's thoughts after becoming captain.


_A History_

_The Pirates! Band of Misfits (In an Adventure with Scientists) belongs to Aardman Animations _

* * *

"Batten down the hatches, men! Raise the sails!"

The pirate with the scarf expected the usual tumult to follow his orders, but instead he only heard a stifling silence. He turned on his heel to see the entire crew (not that there were all that many of them) standing on the deck before him. The albino pirate was the only one to step forward, and cautiously speak.

"But...what about the Captain?"

The scarf-wearing pirate's gaze flickered to the rest of the crew, all standing cowardly behind the youngest pirate. He took a deep breath and did his best to look hard-nosed, mustering as much authority to his voice as possible. "You heard the Pirate King, lads. He is no longer our Captain. We must continue on without him, and find someone else to lead us."

There was silence again, before the surprisingly curvaceous pirate managed the gumption to move up as well. "But, ah, wouldn't that be you? The new captain?"

The pirate with a scarf blinked, but the crewman was right. He had been second in command to the Pirate Captain, and since he was Captain and Pirate no more….

"In that case," he began slowly, looking down at his pirate shoes, before forcefully meeting each crewman's gaze, "Unclip all sails! I want this ship halfway to the West Indies in half an hour!"

The crew jumped at the unexpected order, but dutifully scurried off to their posts. The pirate with a scarf assigned the pirate who liked sunsets and kittens to steer, before stalking off. He felt everyone's eyes on his back as he entered the Captain's quarters, and he slammed the door behind him in response.

* * *

The pirate with a scarf had stood in the doorway for some time, as if he didn't dare pass any further without the Captain's usual room-filling presence. Memories plagued him, from the first moment he'd stepped onto this very pirate ship so many years ago, to the last time he'd been in this very room with that blasted Charles Darwin.

His anger from their previous adventure lit something within the scarf-wearing pirate, and he finally took that one step forward. Nothing happened, and he planted the other foot down, and before he knew it, he stood beside the Captain's chair. It was the ultimate taboo, he knew, to sit oneself in the commander's chair. The Pirate Captain would've chewed him out for days had he not thrown him overboard first. But _he_ was captain now. And he carefully, and ever so slowly, seated himself in the large, leather-padded chair.

His composure deteriorated then, shoulders sagging, expression haggard, and his head fell into his hands.

The scarf-wearing pirate released a weary sigh, leaning back in the chair and brushing the hair from his eyes. His gaze flittered to the desk, cluttered with all sorts of random knickknacks that the Pirate Captain enjoyed having, but among the clutter, was a framed photograph of himself, the Captain, and Polly. He picked it up, if somewhat ruefully, and held it delicately in both hands. The picture had been taken after they had plundered the Spanish Main for the first time, and then during the Ham Night that had ensued afterwards. They had come out of there with nothing more than a few dozen doubloons, and several more scars for their efforts. But it had been fun.

The smile that had blossomed while the scarf-wearing reminisced swiftly faded as he returned to reality, and he looked forlornly around the empty, creaking room with wide eyes. It was nearly pitch black he blatantly realized, though he didn't know how much time he had wasted.

The pirate with a scarf stood, and procuring a box of matches, lit the oil lamp on the desk. The flickering light faintly illuminated the little doggy bed Polly often used for her own, and he felt something in his gut twist at the resounding emptiness.

He turned around, his back to the room and everything of the Pirate Captain, and walked out the door. On deck, all was silent save for the usual creaking timbers and rolling waves, but gathered beneath the mast was the entire crew, surrounding the small fire pit they'd constructed a few weeks ago when they ventured too close to Alaska. The scarf-wearing pirate's lantern was miniscule in comparison to the roaring flames, but he moved closer just the same. When he was only a few feet behind the crew, and they had yet to notice him, he caught the albino pirate somberly lifting up the Pirate Captain's old tattered tricorn, and placed in a barrel that had a papier-mâché replica of the Pirate Captain's head on it, luxuriant beard and all.

The scarf-wearing pirate sighed silently, before clearing his throat to gain the crew's attention. They all whipped around, and shuffled their feet guiltily under his stare.

"Sorry, C-Captain," the pirate with gout muttered, catching himself at the last minute. The scarf-wearing pirate shook his head, before managing a thin smile.

"Its fine, lads. But…do you mind if I join you?"

The crewmen shook their heads, small smiles on their rugged features as well, and space was made for the new captain. The pirate with a scarf seated himself on the other side of the Pirate Captain replica, and the pirate who liked sunsets and kittens brought out mugs of grog for everyone. And they all drank under the stars, barely able to contain their worry over a certain Pirate Captain.


End file.
